At Their Mercy
by Smoshkli
Summary: The 125th Hunger Games. 24 tributes. It isn't about who will win, but who will die in the process.


The screen flickered to life. Possibly the most famous, but also most feared and silently respected face stared down at them. The whole of Panem watched with bated breath as he greeted them, and proceeded to open the small wooden box that sat on a plush red cushion beside him.

"For the 125th Hunger Games, any physically able participants, regardless of age, will be entered into the Reaping. Two contestants, male and female, will both be picked. However, they will not have a mentor to prepare or train them."

A collective sigh sweeped over Panem. Many had been expecting something far worse, something far more life-threatening. Many adults were almost pleased by this. With more participants, more adults to be specific in the Reaping, maybe none of their children would be picked.

But nothing to do with the Hunger Games ever went the way the population hoped.

* * *

><p>The crowd that surrounded the platform in the center of District 1 was buzzing. Words were flowing like electric currents around the mass, whispers of people who planned to volunteer. Finally, Becky Jackson took to the stage. There was the required amount of polite clapping, before silence fell over them.<p>

Becky stepped forward, with collective hearts pounding at each movement. She reached into the male bowl, swirled her hand around for a few seconds, and plucked a single strip of paper. Before the name of the chosen contestant had left her lips, another boy stepped forward with a cry of, "I volunteer!"

The silence broke, and the whispers started up again. The boy on stage, a well known boy by the name of Jesse St. James, turned to the boy who had originally been called. The boy was cowering with his family, his mother's arms wrapped tightly around him.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked, flashing a toothy grin. The boy shook his head furiously. Jesse smirked another predatorial smile and stepped to the side, hands placed in front of him.

The commotion settled down as Becky pulled the next name.

"Quinn Fabray."

This time, she was able to say the name before being interrupted. Before Quinn, who was standing alone in the crowd could speak, another girl stepped forward. She looked hard and mean, and took each step with more force than need be.

"I volunteer," she said gruffly, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"No."

There was a collective gasp as Quinn stepped towards the stage. Tears were running delicately down her cheeks. Nothing like this had ever happened before, for who would refuse the chance to stay as far away from the Games as they could?

The girl who had stepped forward did not look please, but stepped away anyway, allowing Quinn to take the stage.

"I have nothing for me here," Quinn said simply, letting the tears drip off her face. More murmuring, but quieter this time. It was not news to anyone that Quinn Fabray had gotten pregnant far too young. With the father unknown, and as punishment for such an act, her baby girl had been sent away to an orphanage in the Capitol.

It was said that Quinn had not been allowed to even see her child, before she was wrenched from her.

An air of solemnity passed over the gathered group as Becky ushered the two unfortunates off of the stage and towards the Justice Building.

Quinn could still feel the ringing in her ears.

* * *

><p>"And the male tribute from District 2, Dave Karofsky!"<p>

There was a loud roar of approval from the crowd, and Dave surged up onto the stage, being pushed forward by congratulatory slaps on the back. In District 2, it was an honour to be chosen for the Games. Dave had something that other boys would have literally killed for.

But, to be the walking cliche he knew he was, he didn't want this. While all of the other guys, his 'friends', dreamed of either winning the Hunger Games, or becoming successful and a favourite of the Capitol, he just wanted a normal life. A normal job, a nice wife, maybe a few kids into the bargain as well.

On the outside, he appeared to be like the rest of the young male population of District 2. Big, buff, always happy to get in a bit of a scrape. Loud, sometimes rude and a bit cheeky to the elders. But inside, (there he goes exploring those feelings again) truth be told, David Karofsky was a bit of a softie. While all of the other guys lusted after girls and treated them the way they though women should be treated (by degrading them), Dave had never been like that.

Sure, he whistled after girls and hadn't had a steady girlfriend, but he only did it to fit in. All of his life, he had only really felt anything for one person. But as time passed and he grew older, his interest had slowly faded. So though he didn't chase after any girl who looked his way, he didn't have anyone special he was waiting around for.

Becoming a tribute wasn't a huge life changer or anything. All of the District's elligable had prepared for it. If he had nothing tying him down to 2, then what was it to leave? No skin of his shoulders for sure.

Then the female tributes name was called.

"Sue Sylvester."

When there had been cheers for Dave, there was silence for Sue. She was well known in the District, and the adults told tales of her to their children. She was rock hard and cold hearted, with no one left in the world to care for. They said her sister died about 20 years back, and since then she has ages miserably. She barked at children, threw things at animals and never let a smile grace her face.

When she stepped onto the stage, no one dared to speak. She simply nodded to Becky and began walking to the Justice Building of her own accord. Becky quickly signaled for the anthem to play and motioned for Dave to follow his fellow tribute.

* * *

><p>Artie could see his family crying in the crowd. His mother and father clutching each other close. He could see the tears threatening to spill over in his dad's eyes, and the ones already overflowing in his mom's. With a push of a button and a slight jolt, he rolled his way up onto the stage.<p>

"Wait!" he heard his mother cry as he parked his wheelchair into place, "Doesn't he classify as physically unfit?"

Becky Jackson shook her head, consulting her keyboard.

"Sorry Miss. His wheelchair is so up to date, that some may actually consider it an advantage," she said with an insincere smile. Artie's mother burst into a fresh round of tears. Becky moved forward, disregarding Mrs. Abrahms breakdown, and pulled out the female tributes name.

"Lauren Zizes."

Lauren, a hefty girl, stepped onto the stage. She nodded to Becky, curtsied to the crowd, and went to stand alongside Artie.

"How ya doin' pal?" she asked cheerfully, with a slap to his back. Artie looked at her in shock. How could she be so cheerful, so carefree? At a time like this? Here he was, trying to hold back tears, while she grinned and fooled around with the rest of District 3 who stood in the square.

With a look to Becky, Lauren gestured her head away off the stage and with a last look to his family, Artie rolled off after her.


End file.
